In Memoria
by milkychaitea
Summary: It was as if even the sun itself was mocking his pain, Steve muses as the sun shines brightly overhead giving the cemetary a harsh, eerie glow. Tony would laugh at the sheer insanity of the entire situation. If Tony was still alive to do so. Steve/Tony pre!superhusbands


**Author:** thewriterchai on tumblr

**Rating:** General

**A/N: **Little piece of writing _stolen_ from my tumblr account above... if you have tumblr, leave me a message and I'll be extremely happy to _finally_ have somebody to fangirl with... Enjoy!

**Warnings:** Angst galore, death!fic, not really a happy ending, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark

It was as if even the sun itself was mocking his pain, Steve muses as it shines brightly overhead, giving the cemetery a harsh, eerie glow. It looked as is all of New York and nearly half the population of the United States politicians were there, and Steve even recognizes more than a few.

He grins sardonically to himself, nearly laughing out loud at the ridiculousness of this farce; all these people, scorn the man in life and now sing his praises in death. Tony would laugh if he was still alive.

_If Tony was still alive._

You'd think the self-proclaimed superhero and genius philanthropist, who had survived terrorist attacks and alien invasions, would be go down in a rain of righteous fury. But no, Tony was gone before anyone could blink, anyone could even think, before Steve could say or do anything.

Gone.

The thought brings up horrible memories of bitter cold and helicopters, of Bucky and past mistakes; yet somehow, Steve knows this feels different. With Bucky, he was utterly devastated at the loss of a dear friend. Yet with Tony, it felt like he had a piece of his heart taken away, forever irrecoverable.

Steve didn't like not understanding how he felt.

The final rites to the funeral were almost finished, and Steve makes out Pepper's sobbing form to his far right, with both Natasha and Darcy comforting her. Bruce stands on the other side, aloof yet if one knew him, could see how his stance felt heavy and glum. Clint and the rest of the crew was somewhere, and Steve just could not be bothered to locate them right now.

The sun was still shining, almost mocking.

The funeral finishes without any incident and Steve lingers, wanting some time alone with Tony. But before he could safely seat himself beside the tall and imposing headstone, Pepper approaches him, carrying along a small, non-descript brown box.

Her eyes are still watery, yet she puts on a brave smile for Steve, prompting him to smile tearfully back. She thrusts the box out to Steve with shaky hands.

"He wanted you to have this." Her voice wavers, but she carries on, "Open it when you're ready."

"What is it?" Steve asks.

"I don't know; Tony he- Tony never told me." Pepper wipes her eyes dry. "But I know he wanted you to have it, do whatever you want with it."

Steve takes the innocuous little brown box in his hands, noticing that it was quite light. Pepper pats him lightly on the shoulder, gives him a final sad smile and takes her leave, leaving him alone with Tony.

_Tony._

Steve remembers the last time he saw Tony, the last time he talked to Tony, the last time he touched Tony.

It was far too long ago.

Steve shakes the little brown box, and when it rattles, he gently rips the paper. He finds something metallic, typical of Tony, and a letter that on the outside, read simply as 'Steve'.

_Steve,_

_I am an idiot. I didn't tell you, and now, since you're reading this, it's probably too late. You may hate me, you may not; I guess it all really depends on when Pepper gives this to you. It could be days from now, or it could be years from now, when we're all old and wrinkly. God, I really hope it's the latter. You'd be really handsome even as an old man._

_I could give you my entire fortune, yet somehow I know you wouldn't really like that, you're good that way, Steve. You gave me so much, and I don't really know how to say this to you in person, but thank you for making me be a better person. It isn't much, but please take it._

_Irrefutable proof that the Great Anthony Stark does indeed, have a heart._

_Keep it or throw it, I'm just glad you have it._

_-Tony_

The box suddenly feels heavier, and Steve recognizes the arc reactor as he turns it around in his hand to take a closer look. It feels cold to his touch; the lack of a pale blue glow making it feel dead. His lips burn in the cool metal of the arc reactor, and Steve shuts his eyes, unable to take anymore.

The sun still burns brightly, mocking.

Steve reads and rereads the letter, hundreds if not thousands of times he is sure of it, until the lines blur and the words become etched in permanence.

He reverently places his hands on Tony's tombstone, a silent whisper on his lips.

_Tony, you idiot. You-_

And the world finally weeps.


End file.
